Ever After
by Radon65
Summary: "Meredith had a friend. Her Mummy told her he was an imaginary friend. Meredith didn't think so. He was much too real, and alive, and peculiar to be anything her imagination could have dreamt up." Sherlock aids Scotland Yard on a difficult case, and finds their target's six year old daughter may be the best tool he has. But the closer he gets, the more fragile his position becomes.
1. Chapter 1

_**Ever After**_

**Chapter 1  
**

Meredith had a friend.

Her Mummy told her he was an imaginary friend.

Meredith didn't think so.

He was much too real, and alive, and peculiar to be anything her imagination could have dreamt up.

She first saw him the day after her daddy disappeared. She'd been very upset, and wondered where he could have gone, but Mummy had actually seemed relieved, and had held Meredith close that morning before she went to school. She wouldn't say why Daddy was gone, just that he was going to be gone for a quite a while, but Meredith was a big girl and she would be okay, right? Meredith wasn't so sure she'd be okay without her daddy, but Mummy had looked so desperate for Meredith to say yes that she hadn't been able to do anything but nod.

She went to school, and when she came out to get on the bus, there he was.

Watching her.

He was tall and handsome and black-haired, like the pictures of the fairy tale princes in Meredith's books at home. Except somehow he was even better, not paint and ink on paper, but wholly real and right in front her, with proud cheekbones and vivid blue eyes that seemed to look right through her and know all of her secrets at once. But she didn't mind, because he was a prince, and they were supposed to know everything. He was leaning against one of the squat brick walls that surrounded the school's flower gardens, wearing a long dark coat and a soft blue scarf, both of which fluttered slightly in the wind.

He said her name.

"Meredith Jones."

She stopped on her way to the bus. Walked over to him, and gazed the long way upwards into his face. He really was tall - just as a prince should be.

"That's me," she said breathlessly, amazed that he was talking to _her_. He seemed to be ignoring all of the other children scurrying to get out of school and on the way back home. "Who... What's your name?"

His lips curved in an odd smile, knowing and inquisitive at the same time, and more dangerous than friendly. But she wasn't scared. He was a prince. And there were lots of other people around, anyway.

"Sherlock," he answered her, and after looking at her for a long moment, crouched down to be at her level.

"Hello, Sherlock," she said politely. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes flicking quickly over her and seeming to pick her apart. Just when she was starting to feel the tiniest bit unsettled, he finally said,

"Your father vanished yesterday."

She was surprised. He wasn't _really_ meant to know everything. So she was surprised that he knew, of all things, about her Daddy.

"How did you know that?" she asked.

"I was told."

That wasn't much of an answer. She humphed in exasperation.

"By who?"

"_Whom_," he corrected her, looking slightly annoyed for the first time. "By _whom_, honestly, they do teach you English here?"

"I'm only in primary school," she said defensively, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "Who told you?"

"A... friend of mine," he said hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure whether the person who told him should be classified as a friend or not. "Someone I work with. I'm looking for your father." Meredith's heart lit up with joy.

"Really? Are you going to bring him back?" she asked excitedly. He gave her another hard stare and frowned slightly.

"Perhaps," he said carefully, and Meredith wasn't at all sure he sounded optimistic. Her joy crumbled a little, but she tried to stay hopeful. Surely if anyone could find her daddy, it would be this man, with his fairy tale looks and his knowing eyes.

"Please try," she begged. He kept frowning, and didn't answer her request. Instead his eyes sharpened on her, and he said,

"When did you last see your father?"

She shrugged.

"The other night. At bedtime."

"And what did he do?"

"He read me a bedtime story and tucked me in," she said curiously, not understanding what that had to do with anything. Daddy had gone away in the night, and she hadn't seen anything important. Sherlock's frown deepened as he seemed to realise this.

"What about before bed?" he asked. "Did you notice anything unusual?"

"No, he - " Meredith broke off at the sound of engines starting. She looked up. Her schoolmates had all but disappeared into the buses, leaving only a few stragglers hurrying out the front door to board before they drove off. "I... The buses are going to leave," she said nervously. She didn't want to miss hers - then how would she get home? He looked annoyed again, but stood up, and Meredith gazed in awe once more at his height.

"So they are," he said in clipped tones, looking at the buses as if they'd personally offended him. He glanced back down at her. "Well, you'd better be off, then," he said. "I'll talk to you later."

Meredith's smile lit up her face.

"Really?" she asked happily. He raised an eyebrow, not seeming to understand why she would be so interested in seeing him again.

"Yes, really," he said drily. "Until then, try to remember anything useful about your father before he left."

"O... Okay," she stammered. She looked at him for just a moment longer, wanting to remember his image, and then turned around and skipped hurriedly off for the bus. Behind her she heard him mutter,

"The security at this school is deplorable."

She wasn't sure what that meant.

ooo00ooo

_"Anything yet, Sherlock?"_

_"A couple of leads. I'd like to interview the daughter - I imagine she knows a number of things that could be useful."_

_A shake of the head._

_"No sorry, she's off limits."_

_"Off limits? Why?"_

_"Her mother doesn't want her involved in any of this. In fact, as far as the kid knows, her father's just an ordinary bloke who left home last night. She doesn't know why."_

_"Hm, yes, I suppose her mother didn't see fit to explain matters."_

_"The kid's only six, Sherlock, you can hardly blame her."_

_"So what? So the girl assumes her father left because he didn't like his family instead? People. They're always trying to spare each other's feelings, but it usually just makes things worse in the end."_

_"Look, it doesn't matter. The kid's under eighteen, her mum's in charge. And she doesn't want us questioning her daughter. Why so hung up on the kid, anyway? You didn't even want to talk to Mrs. Jones yourself."_

_"Mrs. Jones doesn't know anything more than what she explained to you in her interview - I could tell that by just watching the video. Jones probably wasn't as careful to hide things from his daughter as he was from his wife - people often underestimate how perceptive children can be. The girl could have heard or seen something important."_

_"Yeah, okay, maybe. I'll ask again, but I doubt she's gonna give us access."_

_"Fine. See you tomorrow."_

_A whirl of coat toward the door._

_"Hang on, I thought you said you had leads."_

_"And I'll tell you about them when I've followed them up."_

_"Sherlock - "_

_"Text me if anything new comes in. Afternoon!"_

_A door slam._

_A sigh._

_"Ah, dammit."_

* * *

So, I totally started writing this before I knew anything about Reichenbach and the fairy tale connection. I'm not sure if that makes me clever or scary.

This story takes place over a number of weeks, so I'm going to try to post the chapters more or less in line with when they occur compatible to the timeline of our current reality. Since the next chapter actually takes place on the same day as this one, it will probably be posted over the next couple of days. Chapters that occur weeks apart, however, will be posted weeks apart. Most of this story is already written, and the timeframe should hopefully facilitate its finish by the appropriate time. Chapters will also get longer, though their lengths are somewhat varying.

I hope this will be entertaining.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

That night, she told her mummy at the dinner table.

"I met a prince today, Mummy," she said happily, stabbing her fork into her stir-fry noodles. Mummy smiled at her, a funny smile that seemed to be just a little bit sad. Although Mummy seemed relieved about Daddy going away, she seemed a bit sad, too. Meredith hoped her story would cheer Mummy up.

"That's very nice, dear," Mummy said, taking a bite of her own food. She chewed and swallowed before asking anything about it - no talking with your mouth full, that was Mummy's rule. "What was he like?"

"Like the fairy tale princes," Meredith elaborated. "He was really tall," she raised a hand above the floor as high as she could make it go to demonstrate, "And he had black hair and blue eyes. Like Snow White. Except he was a prince," she added, giggling. Somehow she didn't think Sherlock would like her saying he looked like Snow White. Mummy smiled with a little more amusement in her eyes, and Meredith smiled back, glad to be making Mummy happy.

"Did he have on prince's clothes?" she asked, in the indulgent tone she used when they were playing pretend. Meredith felt her forehead wrinkle a little - this wasn't pretend.

"No," she said. "He was wearing a black coat and a pretty blue scarf. It's cold out," she explained, as if Mummy wouldn't know this for herself. Mummy smiled even wider and seemed on the verge of laughing.

"What was his name?" she said in a teasing tone.

"Sher-lock," Meredith said carefully, to be sure she pronounced it right. Why was Mummy talking as if she was playing? But then Mummy giggled a little, and Meredith felt so proud that she'd made Mummy laugh that she didn't mind.

"That's a very unusual name," Mummy said. "Did you read it somewhere?"

"No, he told me," Meredith said, confused again.

"I see." Mummy went back to her noodles. Meredith twirled hers with her fork, not taking a bite just yet. She wasn't finished talking, and Mummy wouldn't let her talk and eat at the same time.

"He's looking for Daddy for me," she said slowly. Mummy's fork froze. She looked sad again.

"No. Oh, no, oh Meredith, honey." Mummy suddenly got up from her chair and rushed around the corner of the table, catching Meredith in an awkward hug where she was sitting. She rocked them back and forth a little, kissing Meredith's hair. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but Daddy isn't coming back," she said gently. "You mustn't imagine that he is."

"I'm not imagining," Meredith said, a little surprised and worried about Mummy's hug. "Sherlock said - "

"Meredith, no imaginary prince can bring Daddy back," she said sadly. She pulled back from the hug and brushed her fingers softly over Meredith's hair, looking her in the eye. "You have to understand." Meredith was exasperated.

"But Sherlock's _not_ imaginary, Mummy, he's real and he's looking for Daddy!"

"Meredith, sweetheart..." Her mother licked her lips. "I know this is hard for you. But pretend is pretend, and real is real. You can't let pretending go too far. You have to get used to Daddy not being around."

"Sherlock _is_ real," Meredith tried again, but Mummy sat back at her place at the table and picked up another forkful of noodles.

"No honey," she said, shaking her head. "Don't imagine Sherlock again, all right? We'll get through this. Now eat your noodles, they're getting cold." Mummy started eating again, and Meredith could tell the matter was closed. Sometimes Mummy could be like that, and you just knew talking more wasn't going to help - Mummy would only get sterner and possibly angry. So Meredith just scowled and shoved a forkful of noodles into her mouth. She'd just have to talk to Sherlock next time about meeting Mummy so Mummy would know he was real.

She went to bed that night with Mummy reading her bedtime story, and instead of a fairy tale about princes and princesses, Mummy chose to read _The Ugly Duckling_.

ooo00ooo

_A furious collapse onto the sofa._

"_Shut the door, Sherlock, you're letting cold air in."_

_Silence._

"_...__Okay fine, I'll get it. What's the matter? Case not going well?"_

_A groan._

"_Lestrade is impossible. Jones' idiot wife doesn't want the Yard interviewing her daughter, and he's incapable of convincing her otherwise."_

"_The Jones case? Is that still going on?"_

"_Of course it is!"_

_Fingers tear into hair._

"_This is complicated John, it's not going to all be solved overnight. He's got people working for him all over England, and that's just what we already know about. It's going to take weeks, and Lestrade's not helping!"_

"_Okay, okay, calm down. It'll get sorted."_

_A bitter snort._

"_Yes, but it would get sorted a lot faster if I could speak openly with Meredith Jones."_

"_Why, does she know something?"_

"_I don't know John, because Lestrade is useless. She could know any number of things. She could be instrumental in bringing Jones down."_

"_Well yeah, but... that's gonna upset her. I mean, he's her father."_

"_Yes, and he's already a suspected murderer, her feelings are hardly important."_

"_Sherlock."_

_A mutual glare._

"_Sherlock, she's six. Maybe it's not such a bad idea to shield her from a little of it. I can understand why her mum doesn't want her involved."_

"_Oh, for god's sake, she's already involved! It's her father!"_

"_Yes, exactly! I mean, how would you feel if Mycroft suddenly started ordering hits on people?"_

_Sarcastic eyebrows quirk__._

"_Suddenly?"_

"_Okay, bad example. Hits on people who weren't a threat to national security."_

_A derisive snort._

"_Just try to look at it from a human perspective, all right?"_

"_I need to talk to her."_

_A long pause._

"_I'll make you a cup of tea, all right? And then you should get some sleep – have you been up since yesterday?"_

"_I'm fine. I need to add to the board."_

"_Well, do that and then get some sleep. If you try to stay up for more than three days, I'm ordering tranquilisers."_

_A spring up from the sofa and a fond chuckle._

"_I mean that!"_

_Clinks and clatters as tea is made._

"_Wait a minute... did you say 'speak *openly* with Meredith Jones?' Have you spoken to her before?"_

"_You heard nothing."_

"_Ah – right."_

* * *

The next chapter will be a longer wait. But it will be a longer chapter. Trade off, I suppose.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Over the next few days, Meredith tried to think of anything important about Daddy that Sherlock might like to know. She watched for him every day when she left school, but no tall prince in a billowing dark coat awaited her. She didn't tell Mummy she was looking for him, since Mummy wouldn't believe her and would probably just get upset again. It was frustrating, but Mummy would see that Sherlock was real soon enough - Meredith just had to find him again, that was all. She started looking for him at Tesco's when she and Mummy went shopping, and at the park when she played with her friends. She started to grow worried when he didn't turn up, and wondered if he had decided not to talk to her again after all. Meredith hoped not, and as she went to school and did her homework and brushed her teeth at night, she went over and over in her head all the things she knew about Daddy that might help Sherlock find him.

She saw Sherlock again nearly two weeks later.

She was in the back garden, trying to scrape together enough leaves to make a pile big enough to jump in. Mummy was inside, watching some soap on telly. Meredith had never seen any soap in the brief flashes she'd seen of what Mummy watched - it was always just people dressed up pretty or weird and usually crying or arguing with each other. She didn't see why it was entertaining, or what it had to do with soap. So she played in the back garden with the leaves and every now and then during a commercial Mummy would poke her head out of the window to check on her. Meredith didn't think she needed to be checked on - after all, she was almost seven years old! But it felt sort of good, all the same, to have Mummy looking after her. She picked up some more leaves and tried to decide whether or not they were too damp for the pile.

"Meredith."

She jumped, dropping the leaves to the ground, where they fell wetly against her shoes. She looked up.

Sherlock was standing, tall and imposing, at the gate to the back garden, the one that led to the pavement where Mummy parked the car. Meredith thought he looked a bit tired, but he was still handsome and regal, and his eyes were as keen and bright as ever. His coat tails were flung out behind him in the November wind, and he leaned over the edge of the gate like an eagle, his voice snapping as he called to her.

"Meredith! I don't have much time. Have you remembered anything?"

She ran over to him, wiping her hands on the end of her pink jumper.

"Hello, Sherlock," she said excitedly. "I haven't seen you for weeks."

"I've been busy," he said shortly. "Did you remember anything important?"

"Oh, yes," she answered, trying to remember what it was she'd remembered. "Um, Daddy, he... he was sort of... funny one day, about a week before he left." Sherlock was glaring at her impatiently. She shrank back, suddenly feeling a bit timid.

"Funny how?" Sherlock demanded, though he seemed to perceive the effect of his glare on her, and his eyes became less stormy.

"Well, one of his mates called him on the phone," Meredith said slowly, trying to make sure she got it right. It had been over three weeks. "And he got kind of nervous after that. Mummy was out shopping, but he went into his study and I could hear him looking for something."

"Oh?" Sherlock's interest was piqued. He leaned closer, talking to her more softly. "What was he looking for, did you see it?"

"I don't know," Meredith answered. "He wouldn't let me in. But then I guess he found it, because he called somebody else after that and seemed happy." Sherlock looked frustrated.

"That's all?"

"Well, he got sick after dinner a couple of nights later." Sherlock shut his eyes, giving an exasperated sigh.

"Go back to the phone conversations. What did he say?"

"I don't remember, it was three weeks ago," Meredith complained, knowing she sounded a bit petulant and afraid of disappointing him.

"I would have found you sooner, but I didn't have the time," Sherlock said bluntly. "Do you remember _anything_?" Meredith frowned, squeezing her eyes shut and trying her best to remember.

"He said... He wanted somebody to bring him something, because whatever he'd found was important. I think maybe it had to do with his job, because I think he was going to get paid. And then he said something about going to Corndogs."

She opened her eyes. Sherlock was looking at her in puzzlement.

"Corndogs?" he echoed.

"You know," Meredith said. She tried to think of how to explain. "It's got beaches...?" Sherlock expression cleared.

"Oh, _Cornwall_," he corrected. "It's called Cornwall." His eyes became suddenly brighter at this piece of news. "That was the second conversation, I presume?"

"Oh. Yeah," Meredith agreed. "The first one was just something about he couldn't find something and thought Mummy might have moved it, but that he'd find it so his mate shouldn't worry. Then he did find it, so everything was okay."

Sherlock smiled down at her, showing his teeth.

"Excellent. Is there anything - "

He stopped suddenly, and drew his mobile out of his pocket - it must have buzzed. He tapped a key with one finger and then glared at the screen, the new expression taking away his smile.

"Idiots," he muttered under his breath. He shoved the phone back into his coat pocket, and looked back at Meredith. "I have to go," he said quickly. "Or some stupid people are going to ruin everything. I'll talk to you later."

And just like that he bounded off, disappearing into the darkening streets in an instant, without even bothering to say thank you for all of Meredith's hard work.

She went back to her pile of leaves, feeling a bit dispirited. Sherlock wasn't quite as nice as she'd thought he was at first - perhaps he wasn't a prince after all. Meredith tried to remember any princes in her storybooks that were like him, but she couldn't think of any. Maybe she ought to think of Sherlock as a knight instead, although he didn't act much like one of those, either. He really didn't act much like anyone she'd ever met before, Meredith thought, as she fluffed the leaves, which were just getting damper on the grass. She sighed and took a few steps back, then jumped into them before they got any wetter. The seat of her jeans hit the ground hard, as the pile wasn't big enough to cushion her, and she stood up rubbing her rear and kicking at the leaves despondently. A few minutes later Mummy came to the window to call her inside.

It wasn't until she went in and Mummy chided her for her wet jeans and sent her off to put on a fresh pair, that Meredith remembered she'd forgotten to introduce her to Sherlock.

ooo00ooo

"_It__'__s like a damn brick wall, is what it is. Have you gotten somewhere, at least?__"_

"_A few places. I__'__m waiting for some information from my Homeless Network at present. What__'__s the latest status on that encryption?__"_

"_Oh, they solved it.__"__ A grimace. __"__There__'__s another layer underneath.__"_

"_I could have told you as much. Give it to me. I__'__ll have it done in half the time.__"_

"_Sherlock, that information is sensitive. Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get in for giving it to you?__"_

"_Yes. I also know how much trouble will come from your failing to solve it.__"_

_A heavy silence._

"_Don__'__t be an idiot, Lestrade. This is beyond the Yard__'__s powers.__"_

"_You__'__re not Bletchley Park, Sherlock. We__'__ve got a whole team on this!__"_

"_And they don__'__t understand how he thinks. Nothing is more useful in this sort of game than knowing how your opponent thinks.__"_

_A sigh._

"_I suppose you__'__ll come across some of the stuff yourself at some point, anyway.__"_

"_Yes, but that point may be too late. Come on. I__'__ll just take pictures.__"_

"_Don__'__t you dare tell anyone I let you do this.__"_

_A grin._

"_We__'__ll say I was sent an anonymous email.__"_

"_Oh, that would be a great cover up. Nobody would suspect me.__"_

_A chuckle._

"_While we__'__re on the subject of you caving to my demands, there__'__s the matter of Meredith Jones.__"_

_A frown._

"_No.__"_

"_Oh, don__'__t be so inflexible.__"_

"_I__'__m not inflexible, Sherlock, it__'__s out of my hands.__"_

"_Make Donovan talk to her. She__'__s actually useful in that area. Did quite a number on Miles Stone.__"_

"_Look, we can__'__t just __–__"_

_"I'm telling you Lestrade, bring her in! She's surely been alone with her father without her mother being there, she's liable to have all sorts of useful information!"_

_"And I'm telling you Sherlock, that Mrs. Jones doesn't want her involved, and we have to respect her wishes!"_

_An impatient huff._

_"You do want this man caught, don't you?"_

_"Yes, I do, but it's Mrs. Jones' decision. Anyway, she's a six year-old kid, how much could she know?"_

_"Plenty."_

_"Well, figure it out without her. And don't go badgering her Mrs. Jones about it. If I hear from her, you're off the case."_

_An amused snort._

_"You can't afford to take me off this case, Lestrade, and you know it."_

_"Just leave Mrs. Jones alone."_

_"Fine. I will."_

* * *

Not quite as long a chapter as I had anticipated. Oh, well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next time she saw Sherlock, it was nearing Christmas, and she'd almost despaired of seeing him again. It had been another two whole weeks, and although she'd finally gotten the courage up to mention Sherlock a second time, Mummy still hadn't believed her and had gotten all teary eyed and just begged her not to pretend. It seemed really important to Mummy that Meredith forget Daddy, or at least stop thinking that he might be coming back. But Meredith _missed_ Daddy. He had always been so kind and warm and funny, and he'd played with her so many times. He and Mummy had awfully bad rows sometimes, but everybody's Mummy and Daddy did that, she knew, and they always seemed sorry afterwards. She couldn't understand what Daddy must have done to make Mummy so happy that he was gone.

It must have been something very bad, but Meredith didn't want to think about that. Maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding. Surely her daddy wouldn't have done anything terrible. Surely not.

Meredith swallowed hard and gazed about at the fairy lights, trying to enjoy them and the light coating of snow that had dusted Londontown. She and Mummy were driving to buy a tree for Christmas, and it felt wrong without Daddy being there. But Meredith didn't want to cry or mention him and upset Mummy again, so she just kept her face turned out the window, watching the glistening shop windows and the people hurrying by. Most of them were out buying Christmas presents, she thought, and she wished her daddy was one of them, out buying her a storybook or a packet of sweets. She supposed she couldn't give a present to Daddy this year, and if she asked, Mummy would probably just cry again. Meredith watched the snowflakes out the window and tried to cheer up as the sign for the Christmas tree place came into view.

Mummy pulled in and parked and Meredith snapped her seat belt off and hurried out into the cold, fresh air. Her breath billowed in clouds and snowflakes landed on her nose when she tried to catch them with her tongue. Mummy caught the back of her coat gently and shepherded her towards the trees. They were big and green and beautiful, and many were too large to fit into their house. They moved on to the smaller section, and Mummy flitted about from tree to tree, asking Meredith what she thought of this one or that one and making hmming noises as she considered. After a bit, she drifted off to talk to the man selling them, and Meredith was left alone among the Christmas greenery. She was playing with one of the trees' needles, brushing the branches with her fingers and trying to avoid the prickles, when she glanced over near the big trees again and her breath caught.

In the twinkling glow of fairy lights and the half shadow of the evergreens, a tall man with sculpted ivory cheeks and crystal blue eyes stood watching her.

"Sherlock!" she cried softly, running over to him.

He was wearing his long, black coat and ever-present scarf, and snow flecked his dark curly hair.

"I was just about to call you," he said as she stumbled to a stop near his feet.

"How did you know we were going to be here?" she asked in awe. He smiled slightly down at her.

"I'm clever."

He didn't look so tired as the last time she'd seen him, leaning against the gate outside her wet back garden. He actually looked rather well, his pale cheeks ever so slightly tinged with colour in the cold air. He even looked a bit happy, as opposed to the solemn and business-like air he'd had when they first met, and the snappish, impatient manner in which he'd behaved during their second meeting. He crouched down to speak with her as he had outside her school, and in doing so moved out the shadows, the glare of the streetlamps throwing his profile into sharp relief and paling the blue of his eyes.

"You know," Meredith said, feeling a bit more comfortable with this happier Sherlock who had a small smile for her and was willing to talk to her on her level again, "You never said thank you last time."

He frowned in confusion.

"What?"

"I said, you never said thank you last time," Meredith repeated. "When I told you that stuff about Daddy. You just ran off."

He raised an eyebrow, looking suddenly annoyed with her.

"I had to go. I didn't have time for social niceties." She wasn't entirely sure what that last bit meant, but she could guess.

"You could have said thank you," Meredith persisted, trying to keep hold of her courage. She didn't want Sherlock to be annoyed with her, but she did feel like she deserved a thank you. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine. _Thank you_."

Meredith frowned.

"That didn't sound very real."

He rolled his eyes again.

"I said it. That's what you're getting. Now, pay attention. I need to know if your father had any certain habits." She wrinkled her brow in confusion.

"Habits?"

"Yes, that's what I said. Things he did often, that he might have hidden from your mother."

"Um..." Meredith bit her lip. "Daddy wouldn't hide things from Mummy." She looked up at the snowflakes swirling around her. "Unless it was a Christmas present." He sighed in exasperation.

"Just see if you can think of anything."

"Well..." Meredith tried her best. "Well..." she said slowly.

"Yes?"

There was a flicker of the old impatience in Sherlock again, and she tried to think faster.

"Well, sometimes when he thought no one was looking he'd go out in the back garden and have a cigarette. He wasn't supposed to. But I saw him once or twice. Only I didn't tell Mummy because I didn't want them to fight."

Sherlock made a clicking noise with his tongue.

"Potentially useful. What kind were they?"

Meredith shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't smoke cigarettes."

He looked exasperated again.

"Well, what did the box look like?"

"Um, it was red, I think. And there was a picture. Some kind of animal, maybe? I don't know."

"Fine, fine." He waved away her lack of information with a gloved hand. "What method did he use to disguise the smell?"

"What?"

"The smell, the smell!" Sherlock was impatient again. "When you smoke cigarettes, you smell of tobacco - your mother must have noticed, unless he did something to hide it."

"Oh. He did used to spray something before he came back in. And then he would have a piece of gum."

Sherlock's eyes swiveled to hers with this new information.

"What kind of gum?"

"Spearmint. He likes that, it's his favourite."

Sherlock's lips curved up to show his teeth.

"Really. Good."

Meredith was glad that she'd pleased him, but upset that he seemed to think her daddy hiding cigarettes from Mummy was 'good.'

"He didn't do it very often," she defended her daddy. "Only sometimes when he was upset."

Sherlock looked at her sharply again.

"Upset? Upset about what?"

"Lots of things," Meredith said. "Like when he'd have a row with Mummy. Or sometimes after he'd get phone calls."

Sherlock looked absolutely delighted.

"Phone calls? Like the one he got the week before he left?"

"Yeah, I guess so..." Meredith thought back. She'd never thought about it much before, but actually Daddy had used to get phone calls a lot when Mummy was out of the house. They'd usually made him happy, but sometimes he got angry, or even sort of scared. "He would get phone calls when Mummy wasn't home," she told Sherlock haltingly. "From his mates, I guess. 'Cause he was usually happy when he was done talking, but sometimes he'd be upset instead. Like, he'd be angry. Or sometimes sort of nervous. And then he'd tell me to read or watch telly and go smoke a cigarette."

Sherlock looked as if someone had just presented him with a particularly promising Christmas present. Or as if he were a dog that was ready to sink its teeth into a large rabbit. He was absurdly pleased in a very anticipatory manner, and not only did Meredith think it was a bit frightening, she also thought it was rude.

"And what did these calls consist of?" he asked quickly, his breath steaming out into the snowy air.

"You don't have to be so happy about it!" Meredith snapped, stamping her foot into the ground. He paused, looking surprised. Then slightly puzzled for about half a second, and then immediately irritated, wherein he glared at her very briefly until he managed to school his features into something more neutral. He took a breath and licked his lips.

"Meredith," he said calmly. "This is important. You can help me. Do you remember anything about your father's phone calls?"

He hadn't apologised or anything!

Meredith pursed her lips and looked at him, still annoyed but also still wanting to help.

"You're going to find my daddy," she said finally. Sherlock looked just the slightest bit uneasy - perhaps he wasn't sure he could do it. But a moment later he answered her confidently.

"Correct," he confirmed.

"Okay," she said. "I didn't pay much attention to Daddy's phone calls - they were Daddy's calls and I'm not supposed to eavesdrop. But he did mention Cornd - Corn_wall_ that one time, and I remember once he said a couple of very funny names. They were funny, so I remembered them."

"Yes, what were they?" Sherlock asked. She sensed that he was impatient again, but was trying to curb it.

"Well, one was Mrs. Patriella," she said. "It's a funny name, it sounds like a ballerina. I think Daddy was trying to get her to do something for him." A spark flared in Sherlock's eyes, but he said nothing.

"That's the first one," Meredith said, stopping to think for a moment to be sure she had the second name right.

"Yes, and the other?" Sherlock prodded gently.

"That one was even weirder," she said, wrinkling her nose as she thought. "Sort of complicated. It started with an M, um... Mor-ee... Mor-ee-arty. That was it."

Sherlock froze.

Outwardly he still appeared calm, but the slight widening of his irises and the subtle clench of teeth gave away the fact that something was wrong. He wasn't happy to hear that name. He wasn't pleased and excited and glowing with anticipation like he'd been about everything else Meredith had managed to provide. Something had chilled within him, and it was several seconds before he mustered up the equanimity to speak again.

"Anything else?" he asked, a hollow note to his smooth voice. Meredith blinked.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said immediately. Beneath the solemn mask of his motionless features, he seemed troubled, and... angry. "Do you remember anything else?"

"But – " she began.

"Don't worry about it, it's not important," Sherlock insisted, sounding annoyed. "I asked if you had anything else."

Meredith stared at him reproachfully, but he didn't seem at all interested in talking about why the name Moreearty upset him. Grown ups were sometimes like that – they didn't want to talk about things that bothered them. Well, if Sherlock was anything like Mummy, Meredith doubted she'd get a clear answer out of him – and she imagined Sherlock would be even more stubborn. So she didn't ask again. Instead she thought for a moment. There _was_ one other thing, besides the names, that she remembered. It had stuck out in her mind because it had had to do with Daddy's job - except it hadn't been about his work in England.

"Um... Something to do with banks, I think. Daddy works for a bank. But these banks were in Swizzerland. And something about Rome. I don't know, maybe that _is_ where Daddy's banks are, I never asked." Sherlock's expression had suddenly switched back from highly controlled displeasure to eager delight again.

"Anything else?" he asked gleefully.

Meredith shrugged.

"I never paid much attention."

"Well, I suppose that's quite enough at present," Sherlock said briskly, taking out his phone and checking the time. "I should go, anyway. I have a lot to do, particularly now." He stood back up.

"Wait!" Meredith said, when it became apparent he was going to leave at once. "You didn't say 'thank you.'" Sherlock rolled his eyes again.

"Fine. Thank you."

"And I think you ought to say sorry for acting so happy about all of this." Sherlock's eyebrows climbed into his bangs.

"I'm not going to apologise for doing my job," he said shortly.

"It's not your job to be happy my Daddy's missing," Meredith said stubbornly. Sherlock looked down at her. His eyes were calculating, gauging her mood, her determination, how long she was going to stay angry at him. Finally, he said, with an almost complete lack of emotion,

"I'm sorry you were upset."

It wasn't exactly an apology for his attitude - just an apology for how it made her feel. But Meredith supposed that that was fair enough, and anyway, it was probably the best she was going to get.

"Okay," she said. "But you really ought to be nicer. Besides, it's Christmas."

"It's just another time of year," he said.

"No, it's not," she insisted. "People are supposed to be nicer to each other during Christmas."

His eyes suddenly bored into her.

"Oh? And why shouldn't they be just as nice the rest of the year?"

Meredith stopped, at a loss to answer the question. Sherlock smirked.

"Well, I'll be going."

He took three steps and Meredith remembered.

"Wait!"

He stopped and turned round to look at her, clearly annoyed with the delay.

"What?"

"I want you to meet my mother."

His eyes grew uneasy again for a fraction of a second.

"No, thank you."

"But you have to meet her!" Meredith protested. "She doesn't believe you're real."

Sherlock gave her a very hard look.

"Yes. I know."

"Then - "

"I'm not going to meet her. I have to go."

"Please," Meredith begged. He shook his head.

"I can't. I have to go."

He turned and was striding off, he'd be gone in a second behind one of those big trees...

"Well... Happy Christmas!" Meredith called after him. He actually paused one more time, and turned to look at her.

"Merry Christmas," he answered. "I'll talk to you later."

Then he melted into the shadows and was gone.

ooo00ooo

_Footsteps on the stairs. Fire crackles in the grate. The swing of a door sounding among the floating notes of instrumental Christmas music._

"_Oh good, you're back. You're just in time for eggnog."_

"_I don't want any."_

"_Oh come on, I made it fresh. Mrs. Hudson's coming up in a minute, she's bringing the stuff to trim the tree."_

"_Tell her to do it later. I need to think."_

"_Well, we were planning on all of us doing it. Together. You know, the Christmas spirit and all that?"_

_A glare._

"_Sherlock, what's wrong?"_

"_Turn this music off, will you? I can't work with it on."_

"_Tonight's not about working Sherlock, it's about decorating the tree and enjoying yourself."_

"_Well, that's hardly going to get the Jones case solved, now is it?"_

_A pause. A rustle of papers._

"_You went to see the kid again, didn't you?"_

_More rustling._

"_Have you been cleaning in here again? Where are those files about the money laundering in Europe?"_

"_On the coffee table, there. I just straightened them a bit. All that stuff is making this place look like a paper factory. And that diagram isn't exactly festive.__"_

"_If it's bothering you, you could go spend Christmas with Harry."_

"_Oh god, no. Sherlock, what did she tell you?"_

"_Maybe you and Mrs. Hudson could go to the countryside. Find someplace where you can have a real Christmas, whatever that entails."_

"_No – Sherlock, what is wrong?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Sherlock – "_

"_I have work to do, John, go make your eggnog."_

"_No. No, this is your night off, Sherlock, we talked about this."_

"_Well, that was before I got more information. Did my laptop finish yet?"_

"_Yeah, the program got done about an hour ago. But you need a break."_

_The snap of a metal case opening. The slight whirr of a computer waking up._

"_I've had a break, for the last three days."_

"_Yeah, your definition of a break."_

"_That's what counts. Will you turn this music off?"_

_A stare. Footsteps. The push of a button. Notes die instantly._

"_Sherlock. You're upset. What did she tell you?"_

"_Hm. Well, that wasn't as productive as I'd hoped. I'll have to try the second one."_

"_Sherlock."_

"_He's certainly managed to produce some interesting encryptions, I'll give him that."_

"_Sherlock."_

"_John, I have to solve this as quickly as possible."_

"_Is she all right?"_

"_Is who all right?"_

"_The little girl. Meredith. You're agitated. Is she okay?"_

"_Yes, of course. She's fine. Why would I be upset if she wasn't?"_

_A sigh._

"_Then what happened? You left earlier perfectly happy, now you're trying to tear a hole in the carpet."_

_Pacing abruptly halts._

"_Come on. You've told me everything else she's said so far."_

_Lips press tightly into themselves._

"_Sherlock. I'm helping you on this case, I get to know. What did she say?"_

_A swallow. A slow sink onto the cushions of the sofa. Fingers steeple against lips._

"_Moriarty's involved."_

_Silence._

"_Hell."_

"_Yes. So I need to work faster."_

_Fingers snatch the edge of a laptop. Rapid typing plays out against the keys._

"_Now, don't work yourself into the ground. You've been getting better at balancing it lately."_

"_I don't have time for a balancing act, John. I need to find out exactly where all of that money's going." Nostrils flare in anger. "And cut it off."_

"_Freezing accounts? That's gonna be a lovely Christmas present."_

"_Actually, yes. He'll probably be impressed."_

"_Who, Jones or Moriarty?"_

"_Whom do you think?"_

"_Okay look, why don't you start the second program and then relax with us for a bit? At least help with the tree, then you can work all night if you want to."_

"_John – "_

"_Sherlock, please. Mrs. Hudson's been looking forward to this. I've been looking forward to this. I sort of hoped you were looking forward to it."_

"_I have far too much to do to waste time stringing baubles on a tree."_

"_It's not a waste of time, it's not about the tree, Sherlock."_

"_Then what is it about? Bringing down a criminal empire? No? Then leave me alone so I can accomplish something actually useful."_

_A long, smouldering sigh._

"_Come on, Sherlock. I think Moriarty's done enough damage to you. Don't let him ruin your Christmas."_

_Fingers pause on the laptop._

_Eyes stare at the floor._

_Silence but for the faint sounds of cars passing by outside the window._

"_Two hours. Then I have to get back to work."_

"_Thank you. Can I get you some eggnog?"_

"_Fine."_

"_And I'll turn the music back on."_

"_Whatever. I'm going to start the next program. Maybe it will manage to find a pattern."_

"_Okay, but then put your laptop in your room and stop worrying about it."_

"_Yes, Mummy."_

"_What?"_

"_Nothing."_

_Fingers press a button. Cheery music reemerges._

_The clatter of typing._

_A tread on the stairs._

"_Knock, knock, boys! Sherlock, I'm so glad you made it back in time."_

"_Oh, don't worry Mrs. Hudson – nothing could keep me."_

"_Sherlock, do you want one spider in your eggnog or two?"_

"_What?"_

"_Just ignore John, he's in a mood."_

"_Only for the next minute. Here's your eggnog, Mrs. Hudson. Ooh, we have that many ornaments?"_

"_Oh, a lot of them have been passed down through the family. Some of these were my grandmother's." _

"_How nice! Well, I'm sure she'd be happy to know they're still being hung."_

"_Yes, I'm sure she would. Sherlock dear, get away from your laptop and come over here. I want to know which of these you like."_

"_It's just going in the bedroom, Mrs. Hudson. I'll be right back."_

_Impressive navigation through the bags of tree trimming material dotting the room. The soft slam of a door._

"_I do hope he's not working too hard. Any more than usual, anyway. He ought to be enjoying himself this time of year."_

"_Well, he'll have fun tonight. We'll make him."_

_Giggles._

_The door reopens._

"_And are you two laughing with me or at me?"_

"_Definitely with you. Here, take your eggnog. Now, how about these silver ones here?"_

"_They'll be fine if we counteract them with some coloured ones."_

"_H__ow artistic, Sherlock. Here dear, you can have these green ones. And I can hang blue."_

"_Thank you. But then we'd better have some red, or there'll be too many of the high frequency colours..."_

_The windows of Baker Street glow warmly against the cold night._

* * *

Bwahahaha! Finally a chapter of decent length! I think the best part about Sherlock demanding to know why people shouldn't be just as nice the rest of the year is the fact that he doesn't actually care whether people should be that nice or not - he just wants to prove Meredith wrong.

I hope you all are having a lovely holiday season, and are getting to spend some nice evenings like the one at Baker Street from time to time, minus the stress of urgent crime-solving.

Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"_So, how's it going?"_

"_I'm... making progress."_

"_Well, that's good."_

_Silence._

"_Anything I can help with?"_

"_No."_

_A sigh._

_Silence. A few taps of a keyboard._

"_Get you some tea? Couple of biscuits?"_

"_No. Thank you."_

"_You should eat something."_

_A rolling of eyes._

"_I'm serious, Sherlock, you've barely touched anything since you got back. And I don't suppose you ate anything while you were gone."_

_Silence. Typing._

"_You know, you didn't have to go to Italy on your own."_

"_You were at the surgery."_

"_You could have waited three hours for me to finish. I could have canceled the rest of the week."_

"_No you couldn't have – you cancel enough as it is."_

"_Oh my god, did you just imply that my job was actually important?"_

_Stony silence. Rapid typing._

"_The point is, I would have gone."_

_Muttering._

"_I know."_

"_What?"_

_Throat clearing._

"_So? I didn't have time to waste waiting for you."_

"_You didn't even send me a text. I didn' t know you'd left until Mycroft told me twelve hours later!"_

"_I was busy!"_

"_And you couldn't send me one text?"_

"_I didn't have time."_

"_No, you know, I sort of get the idea you really didn't want me along. And you didn't text me to let me know where you'd gone because you didn't want me coming after you."_

_An instant's hesitation on the keyboard._

"_Why would you think that?"_

"_Because in your twisted non-sociopathic sensibilities, you decided that that was the best way to keep me safe."_

"_I wasn't trying to – "_

"_Look, you've been shutting me out since you found out Moriarty was involved, do you really think I haven't noticed?"_

_Silence._

"_Sherlock."_

"_I didn't need you along."_

"_Oh, so now I'm useless."_

"_I didn't say you were useless!"_

"_No, you just don't need me, is all."_

_A slam of hands upon the coffee table._

"_What do you want from me?"_

"_I want you to stop acting like I'm a five year old. I want to help, Sherlock, and you're not letting me!"_

_A sudden stand from the chair._

"_Oh yes, you're so much help, I couldn't possibly get anywhere without you."_

"_Don't. Don't... do this again."_

_Angry prowling about the room._

"_I can't get anything done without you along, can I? What have you done lately John, to help with this case? Let's make a list of your accomplishments."_

_A glare._

"_Shut up."_

"_Let's see, you've spent a lot of time curing strangers of sniffles, you've distracted me with a lot of complaints about eating and sleeping, and you've been entirely useless when it comes to code breaking. Shall I go on?"_

"_Stop it."_

"_Oh good, then I will. You've cleaned up testing dishes that were important because you wanted the flat to look nice."_

"_I told you, if you'd just label them so I – "_

"_You've told Mrs. Hudson to stop buying me nicotine patches,"_

"_Because you've been using way too many of them."_

"_And you've managed to drop a tea caddy."_

"_That was one time, Sherlock!"_

"_And – "_

"_And I've also interviewed witnesses you were too busy to see, and gone over those photos and your diagram and made you tea... and, and gotten you to take enough breaks to keep you still standing!"_

_A snorted laugh._

"_Yes, I know, to you it's just transport, but when it goes out you'll be in a right spot."_

"_Of course. So I really should have you with me at all times."_

"_Look, can we stop this? I hate arguing."_

"_Then go play with your blog and leave me to work."_

"_No."_

_A puzzled look. Confused narrowing of the eyes._

"_I am not letting you do this by yourself, okay? This right now is just you trying to push me out again, and I don't want to go. I'm going to be involved whether you like it or not."_

"_No."_

_Elbows crossing._

"_Yes."_

_Frustrated head turning._

"_I don't want you. You distract me."_

"_Oh yeah, that's really gonna work now."_

"_For god's sake, John, just leave me alone!"_

"_Because you think Moriarty's planning to, what? Kill me? Just like that?"_

"_He wants me alive and he wants me burned. Now what does that leave him for targets?"_

"_Yeah, well I'm not defenceless, Sherlock. I was a soldier!"_

"_Oh? Then tell me, Captain Watson, just how do you defend against a sniper?"_

_Silence. Glares._

"_You don't have an answer."_

"_You're not being fair."_

"_Not one of my most notable qualities. Now go on , I have a criminal mastermind to stop."_

"_Yeah? And did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to stop him, too!"_

_Silence. A glance._

"_...That's my prerogative."_

"_I want him taken down just as much as you do. If you remember, he strapped me to a bomb. Several bombs, actually, I suppose. And you know, I didn't really like that. Or anything else that he did."_

"_But he's not concerned with you, you're caught in the crossfire, nothing more. Everyone is, and it's not..."_

_Words tail off into nothing._

"_Sherlock, when a man kidnaps me and tries to murder my best friend, I don't exactly just forgive and forget."_

_Eyes close. Silence._

"_I want him stopped. And I want to help. Now __**that's**__ what's fair."_

_Hands rub down a face to meet in prayer before pursed lips. Eyes reopen._

"_Okay."_

"_Okay? ...Really?"_

"_You're right."_

"_I'm right?"_

"_You're right. I need some biscuits."_

_A turn of the head and a faint smile._

_And then sudden laughter from both sides of the room._

"_You really want me to get you some biscuits?"_

"_Yes, why not? As long as they come with tea."_

"_Yeah, okay. I don't suppose I'm going to get an apology for all the 'things you mucked up' comments?"_

"_I was exaggerating. You haven't really mucked up that badly."_

"_Okay. I forgive you. Now what can I do to help?"_

"_Tea would be lovely."_

"_No, really. Can't I do something for the case?"_

_A rueful sigh._

"_No."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because there's really not anything for you to do. I've just about exhausted all the latest leads – all I can do at the moment is keep working on the encryption."_

"_Well, let me see it, maybe I can..."_

_The sliding of a laptop rotation. A stare._

"_...I'll make you some tea, then."_

"_Thank you."_

_Clinks from the kitchen. Water running and the crinkle of plastic packaging._

"_Do you think you're at least close with it?"_

"_Difficult to tell. I need more time."_

"_And there's nothing left to follow up on?"_

"_Well, not exactly, but there's nothing immediate upon which I can act. I have to let things percolate a little longer."_

"_Hm. You gonna go see the kid again soon?"_

"_Yes. See if there's anything else I can unearth from her."_

"_At least she's helping. But you know you're basically stalking her, right?"_

_A baffled glare. Irritated disbelief._

"_I'm not stalking her! I've seen her three times in the last two and a half months!"_

_Footsteps back into the main room. The soft thunk of a tray setting down upon wood._

"_Yeah, but you keep tabs on her. At least when you think you can manage a visit. And didn't you pay that woman from your Homeless Network to watch her house a couple of weeks back?"_

"_That's still not stalking."_

"_Yeah, it sort of is."_

_A snort._

"_Fine. Whatever. It's for a case."_

"_And of course the fact that she's a six year old just makes it creepier. You're going to ruin her stranger danger radar."_

"_Don't you have anything else you could possibly be doing right now?"_

"_Well, since you don't want me helping, no."_

_An exasperated glare. A shuffle of papers._

"_Fine. Take the file on Patriella. Read through it and see if you can come up with any fresh ideas as to where she's gone."_

"_...This is 53 pages."_

"_You wanted something to do. And we'll find her before we find Jones – she hasn't been as careful."_

"_Okay. Drink your tea."_

_Typing. Paper shuffling._

_A sip of tea._

_A smile._

ooo00ooo

She was six days back in school when she came home to find Mummy crying. The little red light was blinking on their answering machine, but Mummy wouldn't let her listen to the message. She just hugged Meredith tightly for minute after minute, and then told her to go sit down in the front room while Mummy made a telephone call. As Meredith had told Sherlock, she didn't make a habit of eavesdropping, but while she lay on the couch and pretended to do her schoolwork she was listening very hard to find out who Mummy was calling. She managed to catch that it was the police Mummy had called, but she didn't manage to catch exactly why. Mummy was talking very quietly into the phone, and kept crying every now and then, so it was hard to hear what she was saying. When Mummy finally rang off and came into the room to sit on the couch next to Meredith, Mummy's eyes were red and Meredith hadn't done a single problem in maths.

"Meredith, sweetie," Mummy said hesitantly, sniffing. "I need to talk to you."

Meredith sat up and tried to look very grown up and like she was listening. Mummy gave her a weak smile and then started to hug her again. Meredith began to think she was going to be crushed to pieces. Eventually Mummy's grip relaxed, but she kept her arms around Meredith while she ran her fingers through Meredith's hair and hummed to herself absently. Finally she cleared her throat and swallowed, and started to actually talk.

"Meredith, there's... we've... well... things are going to be a little different for a while, okay? I need you to stay in the house, and I'm going to take you to school and bring you home myself, instead of the bus." Meredith's forehead wrinkled. She actually liked the bus. It was noisy and crowded, but her friends were on it, and she could talk to them before and after school, when they weren't separated by having to pay attention in classes.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because sweetheart, well, there's someone who... who wants to... who wants to hurt you. And to take you away from me. And I don't want that to happen, so we're going to keep a very close eye on you for a while, okay?" She looked at Meredith a bit desperately, as if she hoped Meredith would understand and at the same time wished she wouldn't. But Meredith did understand, and she had a strange, sinking feeling that this had something to do with Daddy. And maybe Sherlock. But neither of them would ever hurt her, so... Maybe it was Moreearty, whose name had upset Sherlock so, who was the problem. Yeah, that was probably it. Anyone who could make Sherlock act so strangely must be pretty bad. Because she knew Sherlock would never hurt her, and it just _couldn't_ be Daddy... Mummy was talking again.

"And the police are going to look out for you, too," Mummy was saying. "So you might see some police cars and people around. That's okay, they're there to make sure you stay safe. If anything ever happens to scare you, run away and shout and go find one of them. And don't talk to any strangers. I know I usually say to be careful of strangers, but for now I need you to avoid them completely. And..." Mummy bit her lip. "Meredith, you remember I said Daddy wasn't coming back?"

"Yes..." Meredith said slowly, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing worse.

"Well, honey, he _might_ come back... but if he does, you can't go near him!" Mummy finished quickly at the excited look on Meredith's face. "Meredith, really, you can't. Daddy... How do I put it? Daddy and I had a really big row, and now Daddy is very angry and I'm afraid Daddy might take you away from me... or... or hurt you..." It looked like what Mummy was saying was very hard for her to say, so Meredith hated to contradict her... But it was even harder to hear, and she had to cut in.

"Daddy would never hurt me," she said firmly, struggling not to cry.

"I'm scared he would, sweetheart," Mummy said.

"No." Meredith shook her head. "Daddy. Loves me. He would never hurt me."

"Meredith," Mummy said. "I know it seems like he wouldn't. And maybe he couldn't. But I'm afraid that he could so if you ever see him, _do not_ go near him, _please_!" Meredith shook her head again.

"Daddy wouldn't..."

"Meredith, promise me you won't go near Daddy." Mummy was looking at her almost as sharply as Sherlock did, and she was desperate again - and she knew that Meredith never broke her promises. Meredith looked back at Mummy and she hated what Mummy was asking, she loved Daddy, and she wanted to say no... but she also loved Mummy, and Mummy looked so afraid... So she took a deep breath and said,

"I promise I won't go near Daddy if I see him."

Mummy had sobbed and hugged her and thanked her, and Meredith immediately tried to figure out what loopholes there were in the promise that could be exploited.

In the days that followed, Mummy did as she had said she would do - she took Meredith to school and brought her home, and Meredith's friends all looked at her funny and asked why. Meredith wasn't sure what to tell them, so she just said it was something that she and Mummy were trying, which was true. They were trying it because somebody - Moreearty, _not_ Daddy - wanted to hurt Meredith for some reason and she needed to stay safe. Meredith stayed in the house most of the time, instead of playing in the back garden, and if she did play in the garden, Mummy watched her all the time instead of just poking her head out during the commercials for the soap. They went to the store fewer times and bought more things. And Meredith was supposed to stay far away from strangers, even the kindly little old ladies in the queues at Tesco.

That rule, of course, didn't apply to Sherlock - not as far as Meredith was concerned. Sherlock wasn't a stranger - he was a... Well, she still wasn't sure what he was, but he wasn't just some stranger. Meredith knew him. So she could see him just fine. If only he would come round! Meredith was getting bored with all the attention and restrictions Mummy was giving her, and though it was kind of cool to catch a glimpse of a police car down the street now and then, Meredith didn't really get to see the police much, so that wasn't particularly exciting. She would have loved to see Sherlock again and the excitement his visits entailed, trying to remember old bits and pieces so he could bring Daddy back to her.

Except...

Now Mummy said Daddy wanted to hurt her - which was _not_ true, Mummy was mixed up, was all - and Sherlock had looked a little funny when she'd asked him about finding Daddy last time. Thinking back, he'd only said he would _maybe_ bring Daddy back that first day, and he always asked the strangest things about him. Anything bad Daddy had done, anything he had hidden from Mummy. It didn't... Well, it didn't altogether sound like Sherlock was on Daddy's side. But Sherlock _was_ looking for Daddy, and he wouldn't hurt Meredith, so why would he hurt her daddy who loved her? It was all a bit confusing and Meredith didn't like to think about it, because if she thought about it too long she got that sinking feeling in her stomach about Daddy and she didn't want to feel that ever again. So she kept a look out for Sherlock wherever they went, even though she was always with Mummy whom Sherlock didn't seem to want to meet, but once again, he didn't turn up. She thought she'd be waiting until spring.

But she didn't have to wait that long.

ooo00ooo

"_You remember what I said about stranger danger?"_

"_What?"_

"_About how you were gonna ruin it for Meredith Jones? Well... that's all a bit disturbing now."_

"_Hm."_

_Typing._

"_She's used to you visiting – what if she decides somebody else who turns up is a friend?"_

"_Oh, please. Her mother's probably got her scared of the entire world now. Hopefully I'll still be an exception."_

"_I'm serious. After those messages?"_

"_Jones was blowing off steam. She's the one person in the world he probably cares for."_

"_That doesn't mean he won't try to snatch her up."_

"_No, but she's not stupid. I got to her early on, before she knew what was happening. I don't know how she'll have reacted when her mother explained things to her, but she'll have to realise that anyone showing up now and claiming to be her friend is probably not somebody to go off with."_

"_Yes, I should hope so."_

_Typing._

"_Besides, I never claimed to be her friend. Anyone Jones sends will probably be so focussed on winning her that she'll get the sense something's off."_

"_At least she's got police protection."_

"_Yes, let Lestrade handle it."_

"_But then don't you think we ought to tell – "_

**"_I've got it!"_**

_Excited pounding. A wild leap from the sofa._

"_I've got it, I've got it! Oh, finally!"_

"_Wait, got what? The encryption?"_

"_Yes, yes, I've finally gotten to the last layer!"_

"_The... the last layer? How can you tell?"_

"_Because now it's simple. Incredibly simple."_

"_Simple?"_

"_Yes. It's not even an encryption anymore, it's just a simple code."_

"_Shouldn't take long to crack, then?"_

"_No. All I need is the key."_

"_Well, what is it?"_

"_I don't know yet."_

"_Then where are you gonna get it?"_

"_Oh come on, John. Where do you think?"_

* * *

I totally went overboard on the satellite conversations this chapter. Which may or may not be a good thing, considering that the main text is fairly short... I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but it needed to be posted.


End file.
